


Dandelions aren't weeds

by maythefandomsbewithyou



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Ciri and Yen become friends, Ciri is Jaskier's niece, F/M, Florist!Jaskier, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Renfri is Geralt's evil ex, SO MUCH SARCASM, Sarcasm, Tattoo artist!Geralt, Yennefer and Geralt are friends, past manipulative relationship, possible homophobia in later chapters, possible smut in later chapters, roach is a motorbike
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22649536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maythefandomsbewithyou/pseuds/maythefandomsbewithyou
Summary: I couldn't find a geraskier tattoo artist florist au so i made my own. Jaskier is a florist, Geralt is the hot tattoo artist next door, what could possibly happen next?
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Renfri | Shrike
Comments: 24
Kudos: 154





	1. New neighbour

It was just another day for Jaskier. It was June and business was booming. Or should he say blooming, he was a florist after all. The wedding season was well under way and orders were coming flooding in. He couldn’t wait for Ciri to finish her exams so she could help out in the shop more but for now he had to manage on his own.  
He owned a quaint little shop called Dandelions Aren’t Weeds in a reasonably quiet part of town. It didn’t seem like much to an outsider but to Jaskier it was his pride and joy. He spent his days tending the plants and catering to his customers’ needs, often with a fresh bloom tucked behind his ear. He took pride not only in his business but in his appearance as well, dressing in fine, brightly coloured clothes that complimented his complexion, with just a light smear of makeup, the boldest on a day to day basis being a dark streak of liner under each eye. He looked as pretty and delicate as the flowers he sold but appearances could be deceiving.  
The only thing out of the ordinary in the past weeks was all the work that had been going on the renovate the shop next door. Rumours had been doing the rounds of what it would be when it was finished. By the look of it, the one that proved to be right was that it was going to be a tattoo shop. Jaskier hoped it wouldn’t be off putting to some of his customers with more…traditional values. By the looks of it, it was due to open any day. He hoped his new neighbours would be nicer than the last ones. He sighed and continued putting together an arrangement. He had too much work to do to worry about that right now.  
Another few weeks passed and Ciri finished her exams. He was definitely grateful to have an extra pair of hands; his niece was marvellous. She’d been helping him out at the weekends while she was in school. He’d decided to take her on full time over the summer, he needed the help and she was saving for a car. He definitely appreciated having someone to talk to with Ciri’s sharp wit and general good humour. Most people didn’t realise they were related though, they couldn’t see past Ciri’s blond tresses and paler skin. However, if one observed her carefully, her mannerisms were similar to Jaskier’s and she had the same glint in her eye just before she made a smart-assed comment.  
The tattoo shop next door had opened too, a steady stream of people going in and out. Jaskier has yet to meet his new neighbours though. Oh well, he presumes they are busy with their opening week or something like that. He’d bump into them eventually.  
Jaskier had been doing a bit of tidying up one evening. Even though they technically weren’t closed because the door was still open, it was too late for any more customers so he had sent Ciri to go and get them both a coffee from the café down the road and popped in his headphones. He hummed and bopped his way around the floor, cleaning as he went. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the man who’d come in until he walked straight into him.  
Jaskier snapped out of his day dream to find a man who was basically a blonde, tattooed superman standing in his flower shop. His long hair was drawn back from his face in a bun, accentuating a jawline Jaskier could cut himself on and, holy shit! Did he have gold eyes?!? He thought this stranger looked fantastic. Oh shit, he was staring at Jaskier, he should probably snap out of it and say something.  
* Bad Jaskier! * He internally chided himself. *No ogling! *  
“Can I help you mister….?” Jaskier asked, clearing his throat and yanking out his headphones. He had to be professional.  
“Geralt, Geralt Rivia. I own the tattoo shop next door.” The man, Geralt, offered his hand. Jaskier noted then that if he wanted to, this guy could probably break his entire hand. However, while firm, the handshake bore no ill intent. Good.  
“Ah! My new neighbour! Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service, but I prefer Jaskier.” He gave a flourishing bow. When he said he’d bump into the neighbours eventually he hadn’t meant literally. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this evening?” *Nothing like laying it on thick Jaskier* he thought to himself, inwardly cringing at his own eagerness.  
~~ time rewind~~  
Geralt was relieved the day that White Wolf Tattoos finally opened for business. The renovations and paper work of starting out on his own had caused him mountains of stress. But he had known it would all be worth it once he got up and running, and away from her.  
Her being his ex-girlfriend and ex-boss Renfri. He knew from the start that mixing work and pleasure would be a bad idea but at the time he’d been too loved up to care. Everything had seemed fine at the start but she gradually showed her true colours, growing more manipulative and egotistical as their relationship progressed. It was stifling. He had no reprieve, even when they’d split, he’d see her at work every day. He couldn’t take it anymore.  
That was how he came to leave Cursed Princess Tattoos to start up on his own. Well, not completely alone. He had Yennefer. Granted, she was his ex too, a long time ago, but they’d parted as friends and continued as such ever since. She had been his rock during the aftermath of his break up with Renfri. She let him live with her until he found his feet again, she’d become his business partner and done the lion’s share of the paper work while he nursed his broken heart. He didn’t know what he’d do without her.  
It had taken months but his shop was finally about to take off, he could feel it. A number of his old clients had followed him when he’d left Renfri’s shop, insistent that he was the only reason they ever went near the place. There were new clients too, as expected in a new part of town, that flocked to his shop. Thanks to Yennefer, social media pages had acted as some of his best advertising. He was finally making a real name for himself.  
The first week had flown by. He and Yennefer had been run off their feet constantly but he assumed things would calm down after a while. Thankfully a short period of calm came on Saturday evening, his last appointment finished sooner than expected so he could take a break and do some exploring in the neighbourhood. Yennefer assured him she could hold the fort, allowing him to take a walk.  
As he’d wandered out of the shop his gaze fell on the florist’s next door. A client he had consulted earlier that day had mentioned wanting a floral piece, a flower shop was a great place to find inspiration. At first, he’d thought they might be closed but the door was open. As he entered his eyes fell on the most gorgeous man sweeping the floor. His brown hair looked soft and artfully styled; a yellow flower perched behind his ear. His dark eyeliner only emphasised how bright the blue of his eyes was, matched by his stylish blue shirt and jeans. He was stunning. Geralt was smitten. He’d realised long ago that he liked men and women but he hadn’t come across a man that he found so attractive in years.  
He snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat hoping to get the man’s attention. No response. He tried again and still nothing. He stepped forward to tap the man on the shoulder only for him to turn around and walk straight into Geralt’s chest.  
They stood for a moment, both dazed and staring at each other before the florist broke their silence.  
“Can I help you mister…?” He’d trailed off while he yanked is headphones out. *Ah,* thought Geralt, *that’s why he didn’t notice me come in.* Geralt immediately offered his hand.  
“Geralt, Geralt Rivia. I own the tattoo shop next door.” He shook the florist’s hand firmly, a hint of a smile going unnoticed in his eyes. He generally kept a very stoic outward demeanour.  
“Ah! My new neighbour! Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service, but I prefer Jaskier.”  
So that was his name. Jaskier. He quirked an eyebrow at the flamboyant bow he received and resisted the urge to scoff. This was a lively one, he could tell. He practically radiated positive energy.  
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this evening?” Jaskier asked him. Another eyebrow quirk, his presence was a pleasure then, was it?  
~~~Back to presnt~~~  
“I came for inspiration.” He stated simply. It was the truth. He watched Jaskier’s face split into a grin.  
“Oh really?” the florist, “In that case, I can very much help you. How do you want me?” With that he struck a ridiculous pose and made what Geralt could only presume he thought to be a model face, which was more of an exaggerated pout. He could only scoff and roll his eyes at the antics, ignoring any possible subtext of the latter comment.  
“For a floral tattoo.” He clarified, watching as Jaskier’s smile never faltered.  
Okay, maybe Jaskier was being a little too flirtatious with the ‘how do you want me’ thing but in his defence, Geralt never even flinched, merely rolled his eyes and moved on. He’d take that as a good sign.  
“Ah! That I can help with too.” He gestured grandly around the shop. “See anything you like the look of?” He knew he certainly did, watching Geralt like a hawk as he had a glance around the shop. That man was something to behold.  
Geralt shrugged, and moved to browse around the shop. If he was honest, the thing he most liked the look of was the owner, not his wares. He pushed that thought from his head and thought about his client. What had they discussed before?  
“Sunflowers.” He said aloud, “My client said something about sunflowers.” He cast his gaze over the room searching for a bright flash of yellow, but although there were plenty of yellow flowers, there seemed to be no sunflowers. He frowned.  
Jaskier noticed the frown. “I’m sorry. They’re quite popular at this time of the year, we sold out some time this afternoon.” It was just then that a flash of brilliance struck his brain. “Although, we’ll be getting more in first thing on Monday morning, if you would like to come by then?” He suggested, trying to mask the eagerness in his voice at the opportunity to see the tattoo artist again. He hadn’t known the man for more than five minutes but he felt drawn to him, despite the intimidating aura he gave off. He wanted to get to know him.  
Geralt gave a deep, non-committal “Hmm.” As he glanced around the shop once more, before returning his gaze to the florist. He considered it. His client definitely said sunflowers specifically. And he certainly would not be opposed to seeing Jaskier again. He almost shook his head physically as he rid himself of that thought. *Stop it, its far too soon after her to be thinking about someone in that way* he reasoned with himself. While yes, the man was attractive, he knew nothing about him. They might have absolutely nothing in common. He might be just another heartbreak waiting to happen. With his stupid grin, and his stupid hair and his stupid, pretty eyes. *Fuck. * He needed to get a grip. Still, it wouldn’t do any harm to come back, with his customer’s best interests in mind, of course;  
“Sure, I can find time.” That’s it Geralt, play it cool. He didn’t need to go rushing into anything. Besides it was basically just business and there’s no harm in being civil to the guy. Who knows, they might end up friends. Well, maybe acquaintances.  
Jaskier tried to quell the traitorous swell of hope in his chest that he might have something resembling a chance with this guy. But, hey, if not maybe they could be friends at least. But for now, he must remain calm.  
“Great, we open at nine.” He beamed. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Was that the time? “Also, we’re technically closed at the minute so….” He trailed off hoping Geralt would take the hint. While he would love to stand and chat all night, he had things to do.  
Geralt answered with another “Hmm.”, this one more amused than the last. The smaller man certainly wasn’t behind the door. Normally most people would be more intimidated and would not try to get rid of his in such an unsubtle way.  
“I’ll see you Monday then.” And with that he turned on his heel and left without another word.  
“Nice meeting you!” Jaskier called after him with a wave. He was dumbfounded by the tattoo artist next door. He was so brooding and mysterious. A man of very few words and yet Jaskier was hanging off every “hmm”, let alone word. He needed to snap out of this. It was just a silly crush. And he could only imagine the stick he’d get if Ciri copped on. Speaking of, where was she with his iced latte? He needed to cool off.


	2. Crushing realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, both Jaskier and Geralt have some very perceptive women in their lives. Jaskier vents about his crush to Ciri while Yennefer ties to pry something out of Geralt about his.

As it turns out Ciri was extremely perceptive and knew something was up the minute she walked back into the shop. Jaskier was standing in the middle of the floor leaning on his brush with that lovestruck look on his face that she’d seen a million times before.  
“Who do you have a crush on now?” She demanded, rolling her eyes as the brush slipped from its position and he almost fell.  
“What? Me? A crush? Pffft, don’t be ridiculous Ciri, I’m too old for crushes.” He babbled in his defence. Damn her, smart little shit. He needed to get off this topic before she could weasel the truth out of him. She had a knack for reading him like a book, just like her mother. “Anyway, where’s my coffee, I’m thirsty.”  
“Yeah you are thirsty.” Ciri snorted at the affronted sound her uncle made as he snatched the iced coffee form her and took a gulp. “It’s the hot tattoo guy from next door, isn’t it?” She asked, innocently sipping on her frappuccino.   
Jaskier promptly spat his coffee all over himself, all over the floor, and almost all over Ciri, if she hadn’t tactically stepped back before she said anything. “What? Hot...Tattoo…Don’t be…CIRILLA CINTRA!” He spluttered. He knew by the smirk on her face that he wasn’t fooling her for a second. “How do you even know about him? I only just met him! And what do you mean hot? He’s waaaay too old for you!” He fussed about trying to find something to clean himself with as Ciri just laughed at him. Little brat.  
Ciri was in stitches. Jaskier was so easy to wind up. “I saw him walk out of the shop, like, two seconds ago, genius. And I’ve seen him around, he does work next door you know.” She sassed him. Of course she’d seen him, the guy wasn’t exactly hard to miss. “And as for him being hot, I’m seventeen not fucking blind. And I meant that you thought he was hot, judging by that dumb, lovestruck look on your face.”   
“I did not have a dumb, lovestruck look on my face.” Jaskier huffed, crossing his arms like a child. He almost felt betrayed that Ciri hadn’t told him about the new neighbours if she supposedly knew so much about them. Especially when their new neighbour was so hot… Fuck! He could see Ciri giving him a sceptical look. He stuck his tongue out at her. “I didn’t. I was just… thinking.”  
Ciri snorted, “Yeah, thinking about how hot he is. You’re not fooling anyone, uncle Jaskier, least of all me.” She rolled her eyes once more for good measure and went to find a mop to clean up the spilled coffee. When she came back Jaskier was dabbing at himself with a tissue absently, with that dreamy look in his eye again. She gave an extremely put-on long-suffering sigh. “Okay, tell me about him.” She demanded.   
His eyes snapped up in surprise. “What?” he squawked. “What do you mean tell you about him?”  
If Ciri rolled her eyes any harder she’d flip the world upside down. “I mean you need to vent and I’m volunteering to listen to your lovesick ramblings.” She finished cleaning up the coffee and hopped up on the counter. She shuffled to get comfy. “Okay, now go.”  
His mouth flapped open and closed like a fish before he gave in. This is what they did. If either of them found a new interest or had a bad day or, in this case, had a crush, one would listen while the other vented. He trusted that although she may ridicule him, she would take his secrets to the grave. And he hers. His thoughts drifted back to Geralt. He hardly knew the man but he was intrigued. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know the person behind the frankly gorgeous exterior. “Where to begin?” He sighed.  
“Maybe with his name?” Ciri suggested cheekily, earning a pointed look form her uncle which she returned with a more mocking air to it.  
“Geralt Rivia.” The first time the name passed his lips it was like opening the flood gates for a multitude of romantic fantasies. It was like he was an enamoured tween, scribbling Geralt’s name with his in a secret note book over and over with pink sparkly gel pen that smelled like strawberries surrounding it with love hearts and flowers. He didn’t even realise how caught up in his thoughts he’d become until Ciri cleared her throat.  
Oh gods, her uncle had it bad. He’d only met the guy once but he couldn’t even say his name without drifting off to Lalaland. She tried hard not to scoff at him, she was the one who you would expect to sigh dreamily over boys, not him. “So, he has a name. Cool. And?” She made a sort of ‘get on with it’ type gesture.  
Jaskier made an affronted noise. “And? And! Have you seen him Ciri? He’s magnificent. He looks like some kind of lesser known deity, and I would happily bow down and worship him.” Now he was getting started, he couldn’t stop the stream of Geralt’s praise that flowed form his lips. “Don’t get me started about his hair! I bet when its down its soft and flowy and frames his face perfectly. I could sit and play with it for hours. I know he’s not my usual type but come on! He’s got a kind of rugged charm about him, with his tattoos and his muscles and his jawline, ugh I could cut myself just looking at that jawline. And he’s, how the kids say, thicc.”  
“Uncle Jaskier!” Ciri exclaimed through her giggles. Old people trying to be cool were hilarious. “I knew I’d regret teaching you modern slang.”   
“Hey, I’m cool! I can be down with the kids.” Jaskier grinned at her. “With your meemees and your snappy chats.”  
“They’re called memes Jaskier! And you know that!” Ciri countered, still laughing. After they’d both recomposed themselves after their fit of giggles Ciri leaned back on her hands and grinned at her uncle. “Are you done with your ode to Geralt yet or do you have more to add?”  
“I’m sure there’s more I can say. Where was I? Ah, him being thicc.” This caused another round of giggles between them. “Seriously though Ciri, he has no business being that handsome.”  
Ciri rolled her eyes again, seriously that girl is going to get eye strain, like damn! “Okay, he’s handsome, I get it.” There was only so much she could listen to. “So why was he even here?”  
“Alas my knight in ripped jeans didn’t come to sweep me off my feet, if that’s what you mean. He came for inspiration for a tattoo.” Jaskier sighed, wishing he had been the reason for Geralt’s visit. However, this made him remember something that gave him back some of his enthusiasm. “But he’s coming back my dear Ciri! Perhaps it was fate that we had no sunflowers left because he’s coming back on Monday when we restock!”  
“Oh joy!” Ciri imitated sarcastically, over-exaggerating the way she bounced in excitement as he had. “Maybe this time you can profess your undying love and ride off into the sunset.” She teased.  
Jaskier pouted dramatically and crossed his arms. “Ha-ha Ciri, you’re so funny. I’ll have you know I already have a plan.”  
“Really, let me guess.” she scoffed, “You’re going to take him on a moon-lit picnic and braid flowers into his hair. You’ll serenade him as you walk down the beach before dropping to one knee and professing your undying love for him and begging him to elope with you. You’ll be happy in a hidden cottage in the woods while you grow your own vegetables and talk to the forest animals. And even though its hard work and the nights are cold, you won’t care because you’ll have him to keep you safe and warm.” She paused her mocking rant to glance at Jaskier’s reaction. He had his hands on his hips and a was gaping at her. She laughed. “Too much?”  
He rolled his eyes. “No, those were all lovely ideas for me to file away for later.” He snarked back at her. “My plan is to be myself and get to know him.”  
Ciri’s gaze softened. “Okay, that sounds like a good start.” She smiled. “Just…if find that you really like him… don’t let your pining get out of hand, okay?”  
Jaskier’s heart clenched. “Okay. No being a pining mess this time.” He was glad she was trying to look after him. He had been reckless with his heart in the past, too fast to fall in love and too fast to have his love thrown back in his face.   
“Sooo...” Ciri broke the moment of silence between them. “Shall we close the shop and get home for Saturday night movie night?”  
~~~  
Geralt couldn’t help it as the corners of his mouth twitched upward as he left the flower shop at the thought of the chipper man he left behind. He took a short stroll around the block, familiarising himself with his surroundings. Although, throughout his walk his mind kept wandering to Jaskier. It was strange. Geralt was a large man, tall and muscular, covered in tattoos and piercings, wrapped in black leather. Now that was enough for some people to stay well clear of him, those with more… conservative, values. And with a glare that could kill at close range and a general ‘don’t fuck with me’ aura Geralt found he intimidated most people he met. But...this adorable man had grinned and joked like he hadn’t been the slightest bit fazed by any of it. He found it baffling, and a little attractive to be honest.   
Before long he ended up back at his shop to find Yennefer waiting for him. She was perched on one of the sofas in the waiting area, flicking through her phone, probably updating the shop’s Instagram with new photos of his work. She barely more than looked up at him.  
“Enjoy your little walk dear?” she asked nonchalantly, still scrolling through her phone. She only received a grunt in response but Yennefer had known Geralt long enough to understand his language of grunts and hmm’s. She lowered her phone as he sat down beside him. “Did you find any pretty flowers?” she said knowingly.  
Geralt’s eyes snapped to meet hers as he schooled his face to appear unconcerned. How did she know? Could she really read him that well? “I don’t know what you mean Yen.” He stated gruffly, pulling his phone out of his pocket so the look in his eyes didn’t give him away even further.  
Yennefer huffed out a laugh. “Don’t play dumb with me Geralt. I wondered how long it would take you to notice the boy next door.” She was met with only the sound of Geralt’s fingers tapping at his phone. “He’s cute, I suppose. In a delicate, flower-y kind of way.” She continued, “Not your usual type though.”  
Geralt realised then he wasn’t going to escape this conversation. Yen could be annoyingly persistent and it was easier to give in now than waste energy trying to avoid the inevitable. “What would you know about my taste in men Yen? I haven’t had a boyfriend since …before us.” The truth was Jaskier was exactly his type; lithe body and a pretty face, with a charming grin and soft eyes that held just a glint of mischief.  
“That’s an exaggeration and you know it, what about… you know… what’s his name? In the band?” Yennefer offered. She knew he was right… in a way. While Yennefer knew his taste in women very well, herself having been one of the women who he’d been drawn to once upon a time however, in the time she’d know him, he had had much more luck with women than men. But that wasn’t to say there’d been no men in his life.  
“Doesn’t count. Sleeping with him hardly makes him my boyfriend. He was a narcissistic prick anyway.” Geralt grumbled. That man was definitely not his type, he couldn’t even remember his name, nor did he care to.  
“Oh, so now you’re a romantic?” She scoffed. “But you must have found him at least somewhat attractive to sleep with him, right?” She raised an eyebrow. She knew Geralt. He didn’t go around sleeping with people for the sake of it.  
“Objectively.” He grunted in response, folding his arms across his chest.   
“Objectively, of course.” She parroted back at him. “So, do you find Julian attractive, more than just objectively?” She wore at cat-like grin as she watched Geralt’s reaction intently.  
“Have you been stalking me?” he asked suspiciously. His eyes widened. “Have you been stalking him? Yen you can’t just do that, that’s really creepy.”  
Yennefer rolled her eyes. “I haven’t been stalking either of you, you dolt!” she smacked him upside the head. “I found his name on the website for the flower shop, which I glanced at out of curiosity. And I knew you’d like him the minute I saw him but I didn’t say anything because if you thought I was trying to set you up you’d decide what he was like in your head before you met him.” She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look that dared him to deny it.  
He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Damn her for being right. “Whatever.” He grunted, not meeting her gaze. He knew she would only encourage him to pursue this. He wanted to, but he was afraid. Afraid of having his heart broken again. Of Jaskier becoming just another her. It would be better to nip this in the bud.  
“That’s not an answer Geralt.” She pressed, her stare never wavering.  
“Ugh!” He groaned, pulling his hair down from its bun so he could rake his hands through it. “Fine. He’s …alright, I guess. Whatever.” He told himself he was only saying it to satisfy her, to get her to drop it. He was lying to himself. Jaskier was gorgeous, but Yen didn’t need to know that or she’d never let him let it go like he should.  
Yennefer grinned triumphantly. She knew Geralt better than anyone, he was smitten, she could tell. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” She teased. “Now you’ve actually admitted it, why don’t you do something about it?”  
“Yennefer.” He growled in warning. “You know why.” She of all people should know exactly why he was guarding his heart so fiercely. She had been there as he tried to gather up the shattered pieces of his heart and stick them back together. But after something breaks once, it will never be as strong again. There will always be a weak spot, somewhere, no matter how small or hidden it is. Geralt’s heart was no exception. She had been his everything, once. He’d given her everything he had to give but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. He’d given her his heart and she’d chewed it up and spat it back out at his feet. After months of wallowing in self-pity, he’d finally managed to heal some. Geralt was terrified that he’d have to start the process all over again.  
Yennefer’s expression softened as she stepped forward to rest hand on his shoulder. “Geralt. Look at me.” She coaxed his chin up to look him in the eye. “She is gone. That toxic bitch is not in your life anymore. But if you let what she did define who you are now, if you let her stop you living your own life, then you’ll never truly be free from her. And she wins. You need to forget her. I know you’ve been trying; I know it’s hard and you’re not the best at emotions. But if you like him, don’t let anyone hold you back, especially not her.” She felt him tug her into his arms and she went willingly, stroking his hair as he embraced her.   
“I’m meeting him again on Monday.” He murmured into her hair. He let out one last deep sigh before releasing her and stepping back. “They’re getting more sunflowers in; they were sold out today. For that floral piece I’m designing.” He was still trying to convince himself that was the only reason.  
Yennefer smiled. “Whatever excuse you have to tell yourself dear.” She teased, moving to grab her stuff.  
“It’s the truth Yen. Jaskier suggested it not me.” Damn her for being able to see through his bullshit.  
Her grin widened. “Jaskier? My, my Geralt, how forward, nicknames and a pre-work rendezvous, I expect you’ll be late on Monday then?” She cackled when he threw a magazine at her off the table. “You can tell me all about it after. See you Monday.” She called, walking out the door before he could protest.  
Geralt stood a moment longer before locking the door behind her. He put the shutter down and headed upstairs to his apartment to be alone with his thoughts, which kept returning to an image of sparkling blue eyes and a charming smile. Fuck.


	3. The longest Sunday in human history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Geralt and Jaskier navigate the longest Sunday of their lives. Geralt has a therapy session with Roach to try to figure out what he's feeling and Jaskier, for once, can't wait for it to be Monday.

Normally, Jaskier enjoyed having a lazy Sunday. Normally he would have a lie in for as long as he deemed fit before he and Ciri would go Grandma Calanthe’s for Sunday lunch. Normally, he revelled in every second of Sunday and wanted it to stretch on for forever, wishing Monday would never arrive. But this time, this time he couldn’t wait for Sunday to fade into Monday. Every waking thought was occupied with one thing. Geralt Rivia.  
Of course, Ciri teased him relentlessly, it was like she could read his mind. Ever since her parents had passed in a car accident when she was eight, Jaskier and Calanthe had raised Ciri between them. She’d formed an especially close bond with Jaskier, he understood what it was like to lose a parent. Calanthe wasn’t Jaskier’s biological mother but that didn’t matter to him, he loved her regardless. She was fierce and strong and loyal, everything he had hoped Ciri would turn out to be. He hadn’t been disappointed. However, their similarities extended to the point that when Ciri “let slip” about his little crush, Calanthe joined her in her ceaseless ridiculing.  
Jaskier loved his family. Truly, he adored them with all his heart. But did they have to be such annoying little shits about a man he was trying to keep his mind off of at the minute. Yes, his little rant to Ciri had been therapeutic but it made him realise that he was doing what he always did. Falling hard and fast. It had happened countless times. He had so much love to give and was so ready to give it to anyone who glanced at him twice. He was like a puppy dog, entirely obsessed with whoever was in front of him. And there was so much mystery about Geralt for him to obsess over. Everything about the man radiated destiny and heroics and heartbreak. Although, he hoped he was wrong about the heartbreak.  
If Jaskier had any chance of wooing this magnificent specimen, he’d need a plan. What would he talk about? His social media snooping session had been considerably less fruitful than he had hoped. Geralt posted mostly about his work and while impressive, they were not the kind of posts he was looking for. The photos that were of Geralt, while devastatingly attractive, didn’t help either. He wanted clues to what Geralt liked and so far, that seemed to only be tattoos and Jaskier knew exactly fuck all about tattoos. Except that he got one that one time but we don’t talk about that. It was maddening. He’d been praying for some hints to piece together the mystery that was Geralt but he remained as much of an enigma as always. His posts betrayed almost nothing of his personality. Jaskier would be going in blind. He half considered changing his name and fleeing the country to avoid making a fool of himself in front of this chiselled warrior of a man. Evening came, casting its short shadows of summer and Jaskier had approximately one ninth of his master plan to woo his man.  
Monday morning couldn’t come soon enough.  
~~~  
Alternatively, Geralt liked to spend his Sundays alone, quietly working on designs and getting himself ready for the upcoming week. He was quite content to sit on the couch and draw for hours, something from his record collection playing in the background. It wasn’t quite a lazy Sunday, but it was the closest Geralt got. However, this Sunday that was not the case.  
It had started by him waking to his phone buzzing, heralding some teasing texts from Yen. He had nearly forgotten is his still half-asleep state, but the more his mind awoke the more it was filled with thoughts of the florist next door. Yen had apparently been stalking his social media and sending Geralt a multitude of pictures that look like she took a photo of her laptop screen with her phone to avoid being discovered by the screenshot notifications. Yennefer was creepily well practised at this. It was quite concerning actually.  
He spent more time looking at those pictures than he’d ever care to admit. He threw his phone down on the bed, wrenching himself away from the dazzling smile and the glimpse of chest hair peeking out of the deep V-neck of a silk shirt. Get a grip Geralt.  
He shuffled to the kitchen to make himself a coffee, ignoring the dinging of his phone. Probably just Yennefer sending more pictures to annoy him. Anyway, if it was anyone important, they’d call him. Coffee secured, he settled himself on the couch with a sketch pad. He had every intention to start on the floral piece only to remember he had no sunflower for reference. Which brought his thoughts to a sunny smile and…No. Nope. Not thinking that. Work. He was working. He needed to move on to a different piece for a different client, something that was nothing to do with flowers.   
A siren. He had a client who wanted a siren. He could draw that. He already had a few ideas written down. He began, his pencil scratching across the paper, the low hum of the record player in the background. His mind started to swirl. Sirens. Sirens were beautiful creatures. Alluring but deadly. They used their sensual songs and bodies to lure sailors to their doom.  
He had been drawing continuously while thinking these things, trying to capture the beauty of a siren. Only when he snapped out of his thoughts did he realise what he’d been drawing. He looked down at his creation and… Fuck.   
The siren looked like Jaskier. Yes, the form was female as the client requested, bare breasted with long, flowing hair. But while long and flowing, the siren’s hair was a suspiciously familiar shade of brown, adorned with yellow flowers. But that could just be a coincidence, right? Wrong. It could have been a coincidence, if the siren’s eyes didn’t look so much like Jaskier’s. Fuck.  
He cast aside his sketch book with a frustrated growl. He couldn’t even work without Jaskier worming his way into his thoughts. It was getting ridiculous, he was acting like a love-struck fool. He had to stop thinking like this, it could only end in disaster. He dropped his coffee cup into the sink a little harder than necessary and stomped across the room to turn the record player off. He had one more Sunday activity that he could use to take his mind off Jaskier.  
He threw on some old clothes and shoved his phone in his pocket, ignoring the dozen or so messages Yennefer had sent him since he last checked. One of the benefits of the location he had chosen to set up his own shop was that it came with a storage space out back in the form of a garage. In which, was his pride and joy. Roach.  
Some people thought it was weird that his motorbike had a name. Geralt glared holes through their skulls until they decided to keep their unwanted opinions to themselves and fuck off. If they didn’t fuck off soon enough for his liking, he reminded them that all the member of the motorcycle gang he was in, the Witchers, named their bikes, if they’d like to bring it up at the next meeting. That definitely made them fuck off.  
Unfortunately, Roach was a little worse for wear at the minute so Geralt had been spending as much time as he could spare tinkering and giving her some much-needed TLC. He had wanted to have her ready long before now, preferably the start of May when the good weather arrived, but with the stress of setting up his new business and wrestling the last of his belongings from his venomous ex, he hadn’t gotten a chance.  
But he was nearly finished now, just a little bit more tinkering and a few new parts then she be as good as new. He busied himself with laying out his tools before getting stuck in. In theory he could have sent her to a mechanic, but he preferred to do it himself.   
Sometimes, he talked as he worked at her, as though he were talking to the motorcycle herself. No one knew of course, if his fellow Witchers found out he’d never live it down. Today was one of the days when he talked. He was frustrated and trying to take his mind off of it clearly wasn’t working. He couldn’t stop his thoughts spiralling even as he worked on the bike. He needed to get it out. He sighed.   
“I met someone.” He muttered as he worked, “A guy. Yeah, I know. A guy. Hasn’t been one of those in a while. But he… he caught my eye. For some reason, I don’t know, maybe it’s the loud colours he wears that drew my attention. Looks like a gods damn flare.”   
Real Roach was silent but Geralt’s in-brain Roach scoffed at him.  
“Ugh, fine. He’s… okay, I guess. He works next door, in the flower shop. I only met him yesterday so I don’t know what this,” He waved a spanner at his general heart area, “…Feeling, is. It’s not love, definitely not, so don’t start. It can’t be, not yet. I know she was a bitch and I should forget about her but it’s so. Damn. Hard. I gave up nearly two years of my life for her.” He sighed and wiped at his face with the back of his hand, probably smearing himself in dirt and grease but he didn’t care. “What if he turns out like her?” His voice had become small, wavering, so unlike his usual rough growl. “What if I end up getting my heart broken all over again?”  
He heard brain Roach tell him he couldn’t let his fear of heartbreak rule him. Brain Roach sounded suspiciously like Yennefer.  
“I know, I shouldn’t let the memory of her control me. So, what do I do? Do you think I should… go for it? I mean, he seems, kinda nice, I guess. With his stupid flower in his hair and his stupid jokes. And he didn’t seem, y’know, intimidated by me.”  
Brain Roach rolled her headlights so hard at him. Of course he should go for it, the twit, he was totally taken with Jaskier.  
“I am not taken with him.” Geralt protested. He wasn’t. He most definitely did not. Fair enough, he admitted he was drawn to him in a way he couldn’t quite explain, as though he’d been swept up in a current that pulled him closer. But that didn’t mean he was taken with him. “He’s just… tolerable.”  
Brain Roach snorted. Sure Geralt, whatever you say. He should stop worrying about it and just go with the flow. No need to get so wound up.  
Geralt huffed. “I’ll just… go with the flow and see what happens. It can’t hurt to be civil to him.”   
Genius, truly genius. Well done Geralt.   
He stepped back and wiped his greasy hands on a rag. “That should do for today girl. I’m just waiting for a part then we’ll get you back on the road.” He’d done all he could until the part arrived and he’d managed to get some stuff off his chest in the process. He wondered briefly how Jaskier felt about motorcycles before rolling his eyes as he caught himself thinking about the florist again. But instead of his usual mental scolding he allowed himself a small smile. He decided he would just have to see where things went.  
He’d spent hours out in the garage, the cool concrete floor a relief from the heat of the summer sun. He wiled away the afternoon with his tinkering and his gushing- He was not gushing! Traitorous brain, he’d been listening to Yennefer too much. (He was, most definitely, gushing.) When he went back inside it was like a weight had been lifted from his mind. He was able to focus on his work more, if any more hints of a pretty florist wormed their way into his work, they were subtle enough that he didn’t notice. He answered Yen’s plethora of messages with a single, simple yet sassy remark, in the hopes of discouraging further bombardment.  
Even in spite of his little therapy session with Roach, as he lay in bed, he could feel a coil of nerves in the pit of his stomach. He tried to pretend he didn’t, that it was nothing, but he was only lying to himself. He couldn’t explain the feeling in his chest so he elected to push it down and try to ignore it as sleep finally claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I focused more on Geralt this chapter to try and develop him a bit more and to challenge myself because i find him harder to write than Jaskier. I love the idea of Geralt just talking away to his motorbike like he does to Roach in the show. Initially i debated on making Roach a cat, but who knows, maybe I'll give him a cat in later chapters. Next chapter will show how their Monday morning rendezvous will play out, its already well on the way. I will try to even out the P.O.V.s a bit more in the next chapter too.   
> Oh! Also! Calanthe and Jaskier have joint custody of Ciri, she lives with Calanthe during the week and stays with Jaskier at the weekends.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoy writing it, chapter 2 is underway. I also intend to write a flipped version i which Jaskier is a tattoo artist and Geralt is a florist when this is done. Chapter 2 will include: Ciri roasting Jaskier, Jaskier crushing on Geralt, Geralt crushing on Jaskier


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